Resolutions
by Cafinatedangel13
Summary: Would you have stayed with her' Exactly what the title promises, the post-fight discussion.


**Resolutions**

Okay, ladies and gentlemen, here it a day late and a dollar short. 

Barely fifteen minutes had passed since the explosive confrontation in the kitchen by the time Kurt found himself cautiously poking his head through the cracked door that led to the room he shared with Kitty. Logan had advised, well, demanded really, with calm but curt words, that he leave things be for the moment, "Give her a little time to calm down, get her own thoughts together and then _maybe_ try to talk to her."

Kurt understood the logic behind Logan's brusque advice, knew that scratching at the open wound would only cause it to bleed and sting…Kitty was obviously upset, too much so to discuss the situation rationally, far more likely to hear than listen, too quick to anger, tongue too ready to lash. And, if his own performance in the kitchen were any indication, he was also far too keyed up to have this discussion with her. The sting of her words had faded somewhat, but in its place was dull throbbing ache, and he would be lying if he claimed her accusations hadn't upset him.

Likely the best solution would be to do as Logan had instructed; to simply drop the matter for the time being and give the both of them a chance to breathe, a little time to calm down, and pick it up again later when they were both more capable of speaking to each other without inciting World War III. As Logan had pointed out, it would still be there in the morning.

But he couldn't help it. The tears sparkling down her pretty face, twisted and contorted in rage and hurt, that tiny, hollow noise she had made, all of it played through his mind on loop, and he felt his insides twist into a painful, jumbled knot with the fact that _he_, directly or not, was responsible for it.

Beyond that, slowly simmering beneath the more prominent pangs of shame and sorrow, were his own hurt feelings and wounded pride, things that would only continue to boil and fester if left unaddressed. All he wanted to do was fix this tangled mess, ease the sharp jagged edges they had both created. After all, one was never supposed to go to sleep angry…

Kitty was seated on the bed, as he had known she would be. Her hands were folded in her lap, and her head was down, as if abnormally interested in her shoes. Her chocolaty hair draped over her shoulders and hid her face, but his more acute senses did not miss the little sniffle and caught the faint tinge of saline on the air.

He took a deep breath and held it for a beat, forcing himself to relax as the cool air worked its natural magic on his tense body and agitated mind. Then, letting all the air out in a rush, he raised his left hand and gently tapped on the door, pushing it open just a little further with the light force, while his right hand slipped through the open space between the door and the frame dragging the cloth he had brought with him in slow, lazy passes.

She straightened, her hair slipping back over her shoulders so he could see her face. Her eyes were red and watery, two faint tracks beginning to mark a path between them and her chin. Her nose was red and her lip was lightly swollen, as if she had held it between her teeth. She did just that as her fingers began roughly wiping the salty liquid from beneath her eyes and cheeks, frustration obvious in her actions.

"What is that?" she asked dryly, turning slightly as if suddenly shy.

"Paper towel," he answered softly, "I couldn't find a T-shirt." She laughed, a brief wet sound in the back of her throat, but she when turned back to face him her lips quirked upward just a bit. He smiled gently at her from his place in the doorway, "May I come in?"

Her shoulders jerked upward in brief shrug, "It's your room too."

Slowly, he crept into the room and began easing his way over to where she sat on the bed. This was difficult because what he wanted to do, what every fiber of his being was _insisting_ that he do was teleport to her side and brush away her tears, kiss her hair and murmur soft apologies and endearments, curl around and hold her tight until he chased the lingering tears and hurt away.

But he knew that none of those actions would welcomed or tolerated just now and that they would not clear the air between them even if she did accept his attentions. So he carefully ignored the screaming demands of his heart and body and cautiously edged over to where she was perched on the bed, allowing her plenty of time to change her mind, to scream at him again or throw him out, although he honestly had no idea what he would do if she chose to take advantage of the opportunity.

"Is she pretty?" she asked suddenly as he settled down beside her, following the unexpected inquiry with a soft sound of gratitude as she accepted the offered her the paper towel to clean her nose and eyes.

For the second time that day, she had managed to catch him completely off-guard and uncertain exactly where she was intending this conversation to go. "_Vas_?"

"Wanda," she clarified sniffling into the paper towel. "Is she pretty?"

He blinked at her unsure of how he was expected to respond. Having dealt with Kitty's famously volatile emotions and hair-trigger temper, though never really having been on the receiving end of either, Kurt was well aware that she was currently testing the waters of her own subconscious, working up to the deeper issue which she was simply not ready to face just yet.

Still her chosen stepping-stone had just tossed him into a verbal mine-field, and one wrong word could set the whole place aflame. He knew that simply reciting what he thought she wanted to hear would be quickly and efficiently seen through and would only serve to shatter the current moment of almost-peace between them. But telling her the truth might only deepen her hurt feelings and further the insecurity she was clearly experiencing.

And, well, Wanda _was_ a lovely girl; there was no denying that. The long mahogany waves that flowed all the way to her waist were almost shimmery in the sunlight. Her milk pale skin set her sapphire eyes alight and they shone like gemstones in even the dimness of Genosha's cells. She was tall and slender, elegant. Even her smile, a smooth easy turn of her lips, was graceful and refined. Pride and authority were always evident her posture and the graceful way she moved, leaving no doubt that this was Genosha's firstborn princess.

But Kitty was beautiful, in a softer, _fairer_, kind of way. Her own chocolaty brown locks ended just past her shoulders, dancing out behind her in the breeze and draping around her like a halo, and _looked_ soft, like silk. She was pale, but with a light pink tinge dancing across her skin, and her blue-gray eyes were as volatile and inconstant as the sea, changing with her mood. She was small, but strong, willowy. She walked with the easy grace of one who knew her own capabilities and felt no need to prove herself to anyone. And when she smiled her whole face lit up and shone like the sun.

"Not like you are pretty."

She snored sardonically at what he knew appeared to be a thinly veiled attempt at avoiding her question, but didn't press the issue, instead turning sideways so they faced each other, one leg over the side of the bed while the other crooked itself against her thigh. The new position pushed her along the length of his hip, making them fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, so close he could feel the faint heat from her skin. The slightest twitch of his muscles would press the two of them together.

He closed his eyes and clenched his fist behind him; she had told him not to touch her.

Still, he felt rather than heard the sharp intake of breath the indicated practice was over and the real discussion was about to start. "Would you have stayed with her?" The question was quick, all the words rushing together as if fighting for space on that single breath.

"No." The word was spoken with conviction and surety. It required no thought, no effort; it was a fact, solid and irreversible.

Her eyes found his, heavy with emotions he had no names for. "I mean," she paused, swallowing thickly, "If Genosha were real, really was what Magneto promised, would you have stayed there with her?"

He did not need to be a telepath to hear the, _When you wouldn't stay with me_, left unsaid and hanging between them. For the second time, she deserved an answer, and he wasn't sure he could give her one.

"I don-I don't know. I-maybe. Probably. But," he pressed on, forcing himself to ignore the liquid gathering in the corners of her eyes, "But something would have happened; you would have called or answered when I called. You would have said something or smiled, and I would have been on the first ship back home."

He did touch her then, trying to convey through actions what words would only make clumsy and uneven. Needing to reassure her of the truth of his words, as well needing the reassurance and comfort of her heat against his own. Needing to wrap the moment around them and hold it in place, finalize this bond between them. Because Wanda was correct in stating that her place was at her father's side, just as his had _always _been with Kitty.

-'Paper towel, I couldn't find a T-shirt.' Refers to the White T-shirt of Surrender from _Elf_. Which I think I may have also stolen from _Will and Grace_…

-'The new position pushed her along the length of his hip, making them fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.' I sit like that all the time; you seriously do just _fit _against things. Just like a puzzle.

This was not the actual ending. There is more to it, little things that have been left unaddressed, who was butting to Kitty and Kurt's business for example. But no matter how many different ways I cut, added, rearranged, and reworded this whole piece, I just could not make the ending fit with the rest of the story. So, I admit it; I settled. I liked the way the last sentence left things hanging, resolved while at the same time left undone.

I think, however, I may just post the ending as an extra bit by itself. I don't have enough material to make it into another story; it'll be more like a long-ish drabble, and it will have a distinct unfinished quality to it, but if anyone, and I seriously mean _anyone_, wants to see what didn't make the cut I'll put it up.


End file.
